


Nachwehen

by Quecksilver_Eyes



Series: Narnia Musings [53]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, and in which a horrible boy muses on the world and what has happened, in which a horrible cousin returns from narnia with paint stained lips and warped bones, in which i love eustace dearly, on homesickness and body dysmorphia, turned inside out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24680506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quecksilver_Eyes/pseuds/Quecksilver_Eyes
Summary: my teeth are dulled now / my claws soft nails / my lashes are wet now / and the air is heavy in my lungs
Relationships: Alberta Scrubb & Eustace Scrubb, Edmund Pevensie & Eustace Scrubb, Eustace Scrubb & Harold Scrubb, Lucy Pevensie & Eustace Scrubb
Series: Narnia Musings [53]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714795
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Nachwehen

It’s a funny thing; this:  
  
how cold I am  
how damp.

how I look at my hands  
(and my skin, and my eyes, and my  
teeth)  
are they even mine?  
these soft, vulnerable things?

these aches, all this blood?

my teeth are dulled now  
my claws soft nails  
my lashes are wet now  
and the air is heavy in my lungs

(my cousins are small, small, small  
all coiled   
and trembling   
soft hands and big eyes   
and their bones heavy   
with longing)

Alberta sneers at Lucy’s dresses  
and there is something;  
hot and sharp  
coiled beneath my ribs  
Harold doesn’t move from that chair  
or in his life  
and there is something;  
hot and sharp  
coiled beneath my ribs.

My hair is past my ears again  
my cheeks are salt crusted  
again

Lucy is a small bundle of homesickness in my arms  
Edmund all wrapped around us  
under this English blanket  
in this English house  
and this English cold

paralysing.

\- _if, at times, there was a point where you were not human, anymore, how human can you be when you are stuffed back into this human body? do these teeth feel like yours, this skin? you silly boy, do you miss your claws, your wings? how English must we make you to force the human back into you? how long until England bleaches the fire from your throat? how long until your mother notices? pick up your notebooks. wipe those tears off your face. do not crave meat. you’re a vegetarian, can’t you remember that?_


End file.
